


Sorrow Won't Wane 'til You Die

by Merfilly



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Non Consensual, Non-Explicit, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Violence, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-17
Updated: 2011-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron hopes to use Jazz to break the stalemate</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorrow Won't Wane 'til You Die

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Sorrow Won't Wane 'til You Die (Chinese Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/462869) by [d7b7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/d7b7/pseuds/d7b7)



> I saw the story in my head before choosing the music, but the lyrics of "Battlefield" (Blind Guardian) have the visceral hate I wanted for the story. Effects of violence seen, though nothing explicit done onscreen. Reference to the fanon that Optimus has reason to wear the battlemask all the time.

Skyfire catapulted out of his aerie atop the mountain as Skywarp appeared overhead. He had no time to challenge the Seeker, who dropped something and then popped out of sight. Fears of a mass destructive bomb disappeared in the sensor impressions immediately gained on scanning the dropped item.

A mech, in stasis, and falling too fast.

Skyfire shot upward, tried to match velocity in time, and got his body under the falling mech, taking the impact with a careful counter-thrust to try and keep from worsening the damage he had scanned at a distance.

::Ratchet, meet me in front of the Ark.::

A startled assent followed that demand, as Skyfire so rarely made them. The transport settled into a tight spiral, bleeding off speed and altitude to get to the ground, aware of that fragile frame held in place mostly by careful use of inertia and his own energy fields applied with meticulous care. When he landed, he realized they were going to have to get the mech down themselves, as he could not transform. Luckily, Ratchet had Prowl and Red Alert with him, no doubt reacting to the alarm. More were coming from inside, half-ready to fight.

"I don't dare dislodge him to transform," Skyfire said apologetically.

"I can get to him," Tracks offered, catching up to them on that announcement. The mech lifted up and was able to maneuver into position, hesitating when he could get a good view of who it was. All of them had expected a Decepticon body, someone who had rebelled against Megatron's tyranny. Once, this had been a common fate for them, as Megatron showed how vicious he could be to his own, and let the enemy know it.

When Tracks lowered a damaged Jazz to the ground, even Prowl could not keep from gasping in sheer horror.

"He was on mission..." Red Alert began.

"He hasn't missed a single check-in," Prowl added, to avert the vicious, scathing accusation in Ratchet's comm buzz.

Skyfire, relieved of his burden, transformed and saw the savaged frame of their saboteur, noting the deep gouges, the crumpled plating, and the faceplates that bore a deep scarring from mid cheek to chin-point... just like some few of them knew Prime himself bore beneath the mask he hid behind.

"Get him inside... carefully," was Ratchet's only reply.

`~`~`~`~`

**Previously**

It was Soundwave that brought the offlined mech into Megatron's quarters, after Soundwave's symbionts had worked in concerted effort to chase the spy into the waiting clutches of the communication master. Outnumbered, out maneuvered, and with Soundwave alert enough to disrupt his sound and light show, Jazz had fallen in the fight that ensued.

"Leave us, Soundwave. Laserbeak may remain." That order prompted the bird-like cassette-former to take up an unobtrusive perch, reinforced by Soundwave's silent order to record all that transpired. He could read that much of Megatron's intent, and found his Spark cycling hungrily for the sharing of that recording.

Megatron inspected the frame of his enemy, walking all around it, kicking him over onto his back for a clear view of what damage had been inflicted. The avians had attacked helm and shoulders, while Ravage had gone for the hands, and the two bipedal mechs had used both weapons and innate abilities to further damage the saboteur. Not a single section of Jazz's usual pristine plating had escaped marking of some kind.

And that sizable hole near the shoulder, precisely placed with the careful intensity to injure, cauterize, and not kill had to be Soundwave's doing. Megatron would have to commend his lieutenant for such adherence to the command of capture without deactivating.

Satisfied with the current status of the prisoner, Megatron returned to his own pursuits, waiting for the mech to come online, doing nothing to further restrain or injure Jazz... yet.

Megatron was aware of the energy fluctuation in the downed mech that indicated awareness some time later. He waited, to see what Jazz would do, and was unimpressed at the pretense to still being offline. For effect, he cycled up the cannon, letting its distinctive noise jolt the Autobot.

"If you insist on 'playing dead', I can take away the pretense," he rasped when Jazz, astoundingly, did not move.

"Now, Megatron, if you wanted me dead, you'd've done it already," Jazz bluffed, optics coming up with that visor reflecting the light outward. He processed the full impact of the chamber he was in from his side, as he slowly pushed up onto an elbow. Nice, easy movements, showing no fear, Megatron noted. It was very much a bluff, the former gladiator knew.

"Oh, I think you serve me far more usefully as you currently are...with a few added improvements," Megatron said, with a silken slide in his rasp that Jazz remembered from the early war, when Megatron had used charisma as well as force to swell his army.

"I won't turn on my own, and you know it, Megatron," Jazz said, shifting to get to his feet, optics never leaving the dangerous mech ahead of him.

Those cruel faceplates parted with a mocking laugh and smile.

"Of course you won't, saboteur. You belong to Prime, spark and frame," Megatron rasped, advancing on the smaller mech with a cruel surge in his crimson optics. "And that, Autobot, is exactly why you are going to be so useful to me."

Megatron's prey reacted suddenly, diving into motion, that cacophony of his making the chamber a disorienting miasma of light and sound, but Megatron knew just where he was, focused on the energy signature and relying on it instead of audio or visual sensors. He swept in well before Jazz made it to the exit, one hand spinning the Autobot back toward the room, then lashing out and catching him by the neck and lifting him off the deckplates by that cruel grip.

"Come now, Jazz. Surely you'd love to help push this war out of its stalemate," Megatron crooned at the saboteur. He raised his free hand and stroked along that shoulder wound in admiration of Soundwave's work, before flicking his optics to Jazz's visor. "You don't have to resist...though it will be so much more enjoyable if you do. For me." With that, he laughed at his own brilliance and took the kicking, flailing Autobot back to his berth for the additional effects he had in mind.

`~`~`~`~`

**Present**

Ratchet sat alone in his office, face buried in his hands, elbows propped on his legs in the large chair, far from his desk. He and his team had worked long and hard. Some repairs would need to wait, those that were purely cosmetic, as the internal damage from overloads taken to extreme had to be repaired first.

He brought his head up, looking in to the darkened bay where Jazz was still in stasis. The unmistakable bulk beside the patient hadn't moved. Ratchet was certain it would take an attack to make him leave.

He dropped his head again, despair cutting through his Spark. What had been done to Jazz was a calculated blow to cut at Prime himself, a challenge to bring the war to a boil.

And Ratchet knew that challenge would soon be answered violently. There had been nothing of calm, patience, or deliberation in Optimus's optics on seeing Jazz's state. There had only been murder.


End file.
